


Canary

by Canarii



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/F, Gen, future nysara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 06:03:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4252152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canarii/pseuds/Canarii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time she's called by her new name, it's anything but beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canary

The first time her new name is used, it's anything but beautiful.

There are six of them, from every corner of the globe, men and women both who have come to this place of dead ends. (No one ends up with the League if they have anywhere else to go). Six who will begin their training the next day, a process of years that many of them would likely not survive.

It’s hard not to note that among this group, she is both the smallest, and the youngest. As they leave, to return to their quarters, Sara feels eyes on her, hears snickers. She catches a word, one of the other recruits speaks, his dark eyes watching her with amusement. The man beside him laughs, and replies in the same language, still watching her.

Sara forces herself not to show the flush of sudden embarrassment on her face. She doesn’t need to understand them to know she’s being mocked. Nyssa walks back with her to her chambers, a polite gesture. She makes a lot of those lately. ( “I saved your life, in that way you are my responsibility until you no longer need it.”)

Sara’s not sure she believes her, but she speaks the word the other recruits muttered, the Arabic clumsy on her tongue, and tries to read Nyssa’s expression when she asks for a translation.

“It means Canary”, the demon’s heir says, before quickly excusing herself.

 _It always came back to the blonde jokes_. Sara thought, lying in bed that night, unable to settle down. She supposed her appearance wouldn’t always be a detriment, if it meant others would underestimate her. She stares up at the ceiling, which felt ever so slightly too low. 

Nanda Parbat was claustriphobic sometimes, with it’s narrow stone passages and dim fire lighting. Sara wondered how long it would take for her to get used to feeling trapped underground, in the dark.

It’s that thought that makes it all clear.

 _You stupid, naive-_  she scolds herself, suddenly remembering vividly a childhood field trip, to a historic mining town. Remembers the tour guide’s droning voice explaining the dangers of poison air, and the purpose of little birds in cages.

Stupid. She curses herself, thinking of the flicker of worry in Nyssa’s eyes she hadn’t taken to heart.

Canary.

_They meant she’d be the first to die._


End file.
